Would it work?
by ToxicSpeka
Summary: Shadow contemplates suicide. Warnings, obviously. Vent.


Would it work?

He took a deep huff and stared down at the vial in front of him. Preserved. Incased. Fossilized. Saved. Surrounding it was mostly nothing; bits of rubble and documents already swept and tossed from his ever shaking hands desiring to make it 'perfect' and clean. All that was left was a vial. A vial, some syringes, and instructions attached to a letter. He had already read the letter time and time again, already able to remember it word for word.

"In case my experiment fails," He spoke aloud, to no one but himself and the empty air. His crossed arms twitched as he set them on the table, unable to keep them still. His mind raced. "I have produced a fail-safe. This solution, if injected into the Ultimate Lifeform itself, will break down every fibre of it's being until it it reduced to it's simple hedgehog genes. From then on, the subject would die a painless but quick death. The Black Arms DNA will not survive. The Hedgehog with not survive. This is a last resort."

Again, he picked up the old needles and examined them. Thick and sharp. They had been sealed well, along with the fluid itself. He had yet to touch the bottle other than when he first took it out, but now he was itching for an answer. Would it work?

He set the needle back down and scratched at the pristine desk. Would it work? It had been years. The bottle glowed a very dim hue of blue. It intimidated him, because there were no test subjects. He knew, because he looked. He wanted to see if it worked. He knew he'd never die, not with this alien blood running through him. He know, if he did die, it would be slow and all of his friends would have been gone by then.

Would it work? Years had passed. Years had passed since this was made, since he was made. Years, more than fifty, he surmised, had passed from when Gerald made this solution to kill him. His body has changed much over the years.

The anticipation was killing him. He was killing himself, really. To say it had been a bad week was an understatement. The past few years had been bad. Horrible. He'd pretend to be okay. to be happy around his friends, and truly that was the only time he could feel any sort of emotion. Everything else could muddle together into a single colour and shape and would not have been the wiser.

Would it work? It had been years. He had nothing to test it on but himself. He had only enough to use on one thing, one person. The anticipation was killing him.

Shadow took a deep breath and picked up one of the needles. Thick and sharp. He pricked his finger with the end and watched a pearl of dark blood bead on the tip of his finger. He swiped it away with his tongue and stared at the spot; the puncture was gone.

He set the needle back down and stared at the vial.

Was it worth it?

Did he need to find out if it worked? If it did, now what? Take his life here and now, where he was created? Just so everyone could search for his body and never find it if there was one left? Or take it down to earth, so he could be found by his friends, dead, and cremated? Or perhaps buried. They never had the conversation.

Shadow took a deep breath.

He couldn't test it. He couldn't take a small amount to see if it worked, to see if something happened, because if it did, taking the rest wouldn't kill him because his body would be able to fight it off by then. He couldn't take it all, because if it did work, he would be dead right here and now.

Would it work? The anticipation was killing him.

He could toss it. He could launch it into space, never to be seen again. But what if it worked? What if, when he finally wanted to go, he could use it but the vial would be lightyears away in a galaxy somewhere? What then?

He could ask Eggman to hold it. Ask him to see if he could make more. But, he would ask. He'd ask what it was. Or, if he knew, he'd ask questions Shadow didn't have the answers to.

He could leave it. He could put it back where he found it, leave it here and go back home. But, he knew, in the back of his mind, it would haunt him.

Would it work? The anticipation was killing him. He picked up a needle, but this time, the vial too. The vial was freezing cold in his hands. Ice, dry ice, liquid nitrogen, so cold it burned. He set both down right away and folded his hands on top of the desk.

He could tell someone to hang on to it. Tell someone to keep it, but never tell them what it was. Tell them it was a secret, then, when his time would come, ask for it back. He doubted they would ask many questions. The standard "What is this?" and "Why?"s, but if he held out they would give up. As he thought about it more, the doubt began to wane. All of his friends pushed. They asked if he was okay at constant hours of the days, something he was grateful for but knew he had no answer to. He was glad they cared, but he feared he was unfixable, beyond help, too far gone to save himself.

If he gave it to them and then asked for it back out of the blue, they would refuse Outright, refuse to give it to him without knowing what it was.

If they gave it back without question and he used it, if the liquid still worked, they would blame themselves for his death and he didn't want that. He didn't want his death over anyone's head.

Would it work? Was it worth finding out?

He took a deep breath. Shadow picked up the vial only and stared into its contents. Sediments settled at the bottom. He remembered how long it had sat there, untouched, in the drawer and remembered the instruction to shake it well before injection. Hesitantly, he twisted his wrist, then again, sharply, more and more until he was shaking the bottle. The cold was biting into his hand and he was surprised he wasn't developing frost bite from simply holding it.

Shadow set the bottle down and looked into the clear glass. The sediments had dissolved, leaving nothing but foggy blue liquid in its wake. He read the label for the umpteenth time that day and sat back.

He picked up the needle and pressed it to the rubber, unbroken seal of the vial, feeling it give way under the gentle pressure, then he stopped and set everything back down.

Would it work? He guessed he'd never find out. Not yet, at least.

xox

 _i had a bad day. vent, really._

 _don't worry, I'll get back to regular updates again. A few bad things happened, but I won't get into most but one_.

 _I found out thag someone was attempting to steal one of my stories. It was Fallen Kingdom (or whatever I called it at the time, probably The Kingdom) and they had three chapters up already, within the span of like a day. I confronted them, they stressed that I had no proof that the story was mine and threatened me with getting me banned, which, it's wattpad, who gives a shit about that terrible site. I confronted them with evidence as I save all of my stories, even ones I deleted, and they said I edited the screenshots. After a back and forth, they got mad, deleted the story, and said that I was making a fuss over nothing and that he was just posting it be ause no one else would see it._

 _I dont have much in life, guy. Leave my stories alone. I deleted it because I didn't like it, don't do that. I'm going to follow him around for a few days now to see if anything sketchy happens, okay?_

 _ **If you guys see anything sketchy on Wattpad, Inkbunny, Tumblr, AO3, or anything else that isn't my account, please let me know.**_

 _anyway, sorry for the long update._

 _see you all later!_


End file.
